


Truth or Dare: Relationship

by thtzwhatuthink



Series: Truth or Dare [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst-Free, Breakfast in Bed, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, M/M, Pretend Relationship, Slice of Life, Truth or Dare, date, fun fact: McCree upgrades to the full version, like a three day trial for a relationship, multiple cuddling sessions, sleeping in same bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-21 06:22:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11938158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thtzwhatuthink/pseuds/thtzwhatuthink
Summary: Hana dares McCree to treat Hanzo like a significant other. Genji dares Hanzo to be cuddly towards McCree, as much as possible. Turns out, pretend dating each other for three days is significantly nicer than expected.





	Truth or Dare: Relationship

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve noticed a trend where I make McCree say “shucks” in every fic I write of McHanzo. I think this is a good habit and it is 100% continued in this fic too. If you’re following the series, hopefully you don’t think it’s boring or repetitive. I think it’s cute as fuck, but you’re welcome to shame me in the comments.
> 
> I realize Sea Holly Flowers aren't that uncommon, but pretend they're hard to get in overwatch-era.

 

“I dare you to treat Hanzo as a significant other for the next three days.”

Two eyebrows furrow together on two separate faces within their truth or dare circle. Apparently, tonight’s truth or dare theme was cute and sweet, of the non-dirty variety. Everyone could get behind daring Mei to hug everyone in the room, or daring Hana to make sugar cookies.

Apparently, everyone could also get behind pairing people to be stuck together for a few days.

Ana and Reinhardt were the first targets, getting dared to go out to dinner together later tonight. Of course, Ana and Reinhardt going to dinner was a regular thing they did on Thursday nights, whilst every time they fought over who would pay the check.

However, Hanzo turns his head to look just as confused as the cowboy sitting next to him. They had no scheduled activities together. They only sparred in the training room together if the other was there per chance. Missions were assigned to them at random as well. There’s the fact that both are single and close in age, which probably influenced the dare. Neither had yet to complain about the predicament.

Unspoken words speak volumes. Too bad neither were paying attention.

“Hana could you elaborate on that, Darlin’?”

“McCree, you are an undeniably touchy sap to the right person. I feel like you would buy flowers and be cuddly to Hanzo, who I think needs the attention—“ She directs her focus to Hanzo and holds up her hands, “No offense,” before continuing, “My requirements are always being in the same room together excluding bathrooms. Go on a date for bonus points.”

Hanzo grimaces at the last statement, and it makes Jesse uneasy about the situation. Jesse could be pushy with objectives, sure, but never regarding relationships. It wasn’t in his character or his morals. He didn’t want to get punched for an invasion of privacy for the sake of a dare either. So he tries to get out of it by commenting, “Hanzo doesn’t seem too pleased about being stuck with me.” Oh, how far was that from the truth—yet Hana holds her tongue. She shrugs and suggests McCree better make amends because she’s not changing her dare.

Jesse has no idea how to amend a situation that never existed to be damaged before.

Instead he just shoots Hanzo an apologetic, slightly embarrassed look. Hanzo’s unreadable expression does crack for a moment, and his expression softens. Maybe the fearsome archer was a sucker for lip pouts and large eyes. McCree mentally files the concept away for later testing.

A few more rounds of truth or dare occur before Hanzo is on the receiving end of the truth or dare question. Hanzo thinks choosing truth is a smart move.

“Is it true you would reject the fruits of McCree’s dare to date you for three days?” Genji asks.

Hanzo knows the answer on the tip of his tongue is “True.” Yet, he can’t bring himself to let the word fall out. Hana’s intentions are pure, just a little smug about it after repeatedly catching the way his eyes linger on the cowboy during missions. She’s a brilliant strategist, Hanzo doesn’t doubt she could connect the dots. Hanzo hopes that she could plan not only his demise, but maybe his happiness.

His eyes slip over to McCree, who’s now holding his gaze with an intensity that reassured Hanzo he would not act on his dare without his approval. Couples can be platonic; not everyone is touchy. Maybe he’d fulfill the dare in another more interesting way than just flowers and cuddling.

Hanzo would never find out. His shoulders square up before they drop slightly with an exhale. He brings his attention to Hana again, and with a defeated expression he admits:

“Not true.” Hanzo feels the need to supplement a believable reason, “The dare isn’t harmful. [Sea Holly flowers](https://auntiedogmasgardenspot.files.wordpress.com/2013/06/seaholly.jpg) are hard to get—I’d like to see him try.”

Jesse responds by throwing an arm around Hanzo. There’s a knowing laugh with a hearty tone, “You’d be surprised at what I can find, Darlin’.” Hanzo’s face flushes lightly, but he leans into the man’s touch while unconvincingly glaring at Hana. She grins victoriously, that same grin gradually breaking down into a soft smile; noting how cutely they mold to each other.

They continue like that only for another two rounds before Hanzo hears Jesse mumble something about, “boyfriend treatment” and the buff arm wrapped around his shoulders shifts to his waist, and Hanzo is lifted slightly.

With strong muscles Hanzo is moved onto Jesse’s crisscross applesauce lap. Hana coos and offhandedly comments more to Hanzo than to anyone else that her suspicions will soon be confirmed about how much of a sap the cowboy is. As if Hanzo would report back to her.

Strong and warm arms wrap around his torso. A delayed sense of heat comes from the firm mass that settles behind to support his back. There’s an incredibly soft and quiet voice near Hanzo’s ear telling him to, “Lean into me if you’re comfy with this.”

Hanzo practically melts into McCree’s arms. He’s never felt more okay in the world than in this spot, and it all but fuels the flush of his face. McCree even lightly chuckles as he takes on the archer’s weight, appreciative of the way Hanzo slouches that allows him to settle his chin on the man’s head.

They continue like that, blissfully untargeted for a few more rounds. Hanzo and McCree seem too cozy to interrupt for a dare anyway. no one would dare (heh) to bother them.

Especially when an arm around Hanzo’s waist loosens, only to find his hand. There is an unspoken promise of security in the fingers that entwine with his calloused ones. The thumb that gingerly strokes above his own invoke relaxation. Hanzo instinctively squeezes Jesse’s hand; noting only on how his own heartbeat picks up.

But McCree’s heartbeat picks up too.

There’s a soft smile that graces the cowboy’s lips as he stares down at their hands. The ruckus of the surrounding truth or dare game zoned out entirely as both entered their own little world. Physical contact that’s intimately affectionate was a rarity for both souls, making the current sitting position even more wonderful.

Jesse works up enough courage to tilt his head downward for a moment, and kiss Hanzo’s coconut-scented hair. It was the lightest kiss McCree has ever given to someone; unsure of where the boundaries lie within a dare. He wants to savor the time he has with Hanzo like this. Enamored by coconut oil shampoo and supple calloused hands; blessed with a dare that allowed him to explore those same comforts.

Despite Jesse’s efforts for the hair kiss to be featherlight, Hanzo catches on. Not out of the pressure applied to his head but of the soft sound of a kiss just above him. Considering the sweet moment and the dare of being cuddly, Hanzo grips McCree’s hand and lifts it.

He kisses the top of Jesse’s still entwined hand with more pressure than McCree’s kiss. Hanzo is blunt, even with his affections.

“Aw, shucks darlin’,” is mumbled somewhere above his head. Hanzo can’t help but crack a small smile.

* * *

When the truth or dare circle breaks for the night, Hanzo and McCree are faced with the dilemma of their sleeping arrangements. Agreeing to McCree’s room for tonight and Hanzo’s for tomorrow, Hanzo finds himself pleasantly surprised by McCree’s room.

Rich earthy tones and neutrals. Rustic artwork that looked like relics out of an ancient desert civilization graced the walls. There were clothes on the floor, well-worn spares of cowboy hats precariously hung from chairbacks and shelf edges. There was a balled up fast food burger wrapper laying haphazardly on the floor, which Hanzo watches McCree ungraciously kick underneath the bed.

Hanzo’s rarely seen the bawdy man that is McCree, embarrassed. It’s an emotion the man bears with surprising attraction as his metal hand flies upward to scratch the back of his neck.

Maybe it was just the dim lighting, but _woah_ was that a shy smile?

“You can take the bed, I know it’s small. I’ll crash on the floor.” McCree picks up a pillow from the bed and tosses it on the floor. Mid-process of grabbing a bedsheet and blanket, Hanzo waives off the idea. It wouldn’t be the first time they have had to share a bed, although the first time not on a mission.

Truth be told, McCree suspected Hanzo only would want to display affection in public, for the sake of just acting like they were doing the dare. What Jesse did not expect was Hanzo’s sheepish expression when he awkwardly gestured to the bed, and stating that they could share it. McCree can only nod in response, before finding the need to gather himself elsewhere. He finds that elsewhere in the bathroom, while performing his night routine.

When McCree returns to the room, he’s clad only in pj bottoms. He watches his door slide open, and Hanzo step back in. He’s wearing sleeping shorts and a shirt. His hair is down. McCree concludes he must have freshened up in his own room. Jesse hits the lights as soon as Hanzo finds his bed, as he could navigate in the dark from muscle memory alone.

The room is pitch black, built as a bunker there were no windows.

When McCree’s weight shifts onto the bed, it also shifts partially onto Hanzo’s side. Wordlessly the man moves over farther, before Jesse can also settle under the sheets comfortably. McCree was content to lay stick straight on his side, facing away from Hanzo the whole night. That didn’t bother him. What bothered him was how goddamn well Hanzo emitted heat. Maybe it was just the proximity, but it’s got Jesse thinking about temperature enough until he flat out asks the man quietly if he preferred the room at another temperature.

“I do prefer colder.”

“Got a number in mind?”

“Seventeen degrees is my usual for sleep—please don’t change the setting. This is your domain.”

McCree has already called out to Athena to change the temperature of the room to seventeen degrees Celsius. It was only after hearing the AC vents in the room _whrrrl_ to life did he convert seventeen degrees Celsius to roughly sixty-two degrees Fahrenheit. That’s certainly cold for someone raised where it’s always sunny. Regardless, McCree stands his ground on the temperature despite Hanzo’s few words of discouragement.

That is until the thin cotton sheets and loosely woven blanket began to not be enough. In truth, the temperature was barely past sixty-eight, but a cold cowboy is a _fucking cold cowboy_. He can handle himself; he can handle the temperature—until he starts shivering the tiniest amount. Technically his body _is_ handling the temperature, as shivering of core muscles can rapidly generate heat.

However, its barely cold and he’s embarrassing himself over an involuntary reaction. His body needs to beef it up, although giving it a mental lecture is past due, because a warm hand with elegant fingers settles cautiously over his lower ribcage muscles.

“You were not raised in an area with white winters and your body is adamant about letting me know.”

The hand presses more firmly into his skin, and Jesse would be lying if he said he didn’t want to lean into his touch. Of course, his tired mind goes ahead and confuses a wish with reality and leans toward Hanzo anyway. The luxurious embodiment of warmth that the man is.

Hanzo all but gives a soft surprising huff. It was almost a laugh. _Almost_.

The huff was a mere warning for what Hanzo would do next—maneuvering to fully face McCree, and then embrace his back. One arm snakes under the blanket around McCree’s torso, while the other forces its way under Jesse. His arms find purchase not with each other, but with palms pressed flat against McCree’s chest and abdomen. Hanzo pulls back.

Jesse’s back collides with a wholesome warmth that is Hanzo’s chest. There’s a heated exhale that hits the back of McCree’s neck, and it shoots tingles down his exposed shoulder. There’s a leg suddenly resting on his, and it gently pulls one of his legs back, onto Hanzo’s. Knees bend together, feet entangle as if they’ve done so a dozen times before.

The motions and positioning feel fluid and natural. There was no hint of awkwardness, only soft skin of scars and a comforting, sleep-inducing heat surrounding McCree.

The subtle inhales and exhales at the back of his neck remind Jesse that the usually detached and stoic archer of Overwatch has initiated cuddling on his behalf. For his betterment of warmth—Jesse should feel touched, and deep down past the fuzzy feeling in his chest he does feel moved.

He mumbles a sincere thank you, letting Hanzo know that he did not need to cuddle him but _god damn_ did he appreciate it. The chest-rub he receives along his sternum in return warms him right up. The soft kiss to his neck makes him flushed.

“Honestly, I didn’t expect ya’ to actually do the dare in full sweetheart.”

He feels the body behind him stiffen a little in response, but promptly relax.

“You’re comforting,” Hanzo presses his face closer to McCree’s exposed neck, muffling his next words of: “And in return, I would like to be a comfort for you.”

McCree finds himself smiling at his words; at the hints of mutually beneficial affection. Hanzo feels a hand hover over his own, before his hand is moved off Jesse’s chest. Soft and warm lips grace the top of his hand, before that hand is returned to rest over Jesse’s heart.

Hanzo can’t help but squeeze the man in his arms a little.

Affection was no foreign concept to either of them, but as they fall asleep together it’s with feelings of contentment unparalleled to their past experiences.

* * *

 

When they wake up, it’s to the soft glow of synthetic sun. the ceiling glows a muted warm light; a measure triggered by Athena in every agent’s room to simulate daylight.

McCree thinks he’s the first to wake, stretching only for a second in the sheets before he realizes Hanzo is still attached to him. They slept solid and unmoving the whole night. A sign of a damn good sleep, and McCree finds satisfaction in knowing that.

There’s a featherlight kiss to the back of his neck that gives away Hanzo being awake. With the room softly illuminated, Jesse decides to shift his shoulder back and turn his head as much as he could to look at Hanzo. His shoulder presses against the tattooed arm, and McCree flushes at the sight he sees.

His hair was a little greasy, matted to the side of his face pressed into the pillow. The corners of his eyes had small amounts of eye goop in them from sleep. There may have been remnants of drool on the corner of his mouth, but McCree isn’t sure. What he is sure of is that Hanzo’s pale skin glows of golden honey undertones in the artificial sunlight. And the soft, sleepy smirk that takes Jesse’s breath away.

Hanzo was a god of death in the battlefield, with an intimidating presence nearly everywhere else, and yet _here_ in Jesse’s own bed—so utterly human. He’s ethereal on a whole other scale. There’s this new complexity of his character that is inviting, gentle, and it’s captivating McCree.

This must have been written on the cowboy’s face, because Hanzo’s now biting his lips. His eyes crinkle ever so slightly at the sides as he stares back at McCree, patiently waiting for McCree to return to composure. When Jesse realizes this, he snaps out of it; eyes darting away to the other side of the room, flingers slipping away from Hanzo’s entwined hand on his chest to rub the side of his neck.

He's embarrassed, but more so distracted by the thought of _when did they entwine hands over his heart last night?_

“Are you alright, Jesse?” Oh, he is more than alright. The way his first name slips from Hanzo’s tongue makes him recall the time when Genji spoke of his culture to McCree, back in Blackwatch. First name basis was a social intimacy, which is probably why Hanzo referred to everyone but his brother by their respective last names. _Jesse_. There’s a wispiness to how he says it, weightless on his lips and hushed in a bedroom tone. He likes the sound of it.

“Yeah… honestly, you’re kind of nice to wake up to. Not having an empty bed is a jarring feeling.”

“Do you want me to get out of it?”

Jesse vigorously shakes his head ‘no’; hair rubbing against the pillow to produce sound. He grips Hanzo’s arms still wrapped around him, before gently rubbing along Hanzo’s forearms.

“It’s a good kinda’ jarring feeling.”

When they sit up together, they’re _close_. Jesse’s right hand supporting himself on the bed touches Hanzo’s left hand that supports his own weight. The touch lingers, and McCree can’t help but glance down and smile.

As Jesse stands, Hanzo simply watches him grab a shirt and shorts from a nearby drawer. Workout training clothes. Hanzo notes that he too should probably weight train today, eyes following McCree all the way until the bathroom door closes.

When McCree emerges, he’s just in time to watch Hanzo pull on one of his favorite shirts. Hanzo looks over his shoulder and once-overs McCree, before beginning to pull his hair up into a bun. There was a small quirk on the sides of his lips.

“You know, that’s my favorite shirt.”

“I’ve only seen you wear it twice a week since I’ve met you.”

It suited Hanzo well. The torso was a little too long for him, and the sleeves fit a little too tightly around his biceps, but it fit wonderfully everywhere else. Well, maybe it wasn’t a good fit—maybe McCree just liked to see Hanzo in his shirt. Favorite shirt on favorite person, walking out of the room with his favorite towel to bring to practice. The one will little cacti near the hemline, that he uses to wipe sweat away.

Jesse McCree then realizes that Hanzo had a plainer towel tucked under his other arm. He was holding two jugs of water too.

Hanzo knew he was ready for practice, and prepared for it as well. He brought his things along for him, knowing exactly what to bring down to his favorite preferences. Jesse McCree would call himself a fool before he would call Hanzo unobservant, but not once did the cowboy consider that Hanzo observed him enough to know how he functioned.

McCree passes it off as training together was frequent.

* * *

 

When they return from strength training and then eating, within moments of returning to Jesse’s room, Jesse immediately feels Hanzo hug him from behind. It’s a full body, still drenched in sweat kind of hug. McCree knows he probably smells, and voices this, but all he feels is Hanzo shrug. At a glance, Hanzo was clean and proper to the degree that sweat and grime would annoy the archer, sure—yet so up close to McCree he doesn’t seem at all bothered by it.

 _No_ , Hanzo seems to _enjoy_ hugging a sweaty cowboy that smells like a gym floor mat.

McCree embraces it, mumbling something about how weird Hanzo is on a breath as he leans back into Hanzo’s embrace. Jesse’s hands rub along Hanzo’s forearms, and he glances to the full-length mirror just next to his door. Jesse finds himself staring back at Hanzo through the reflection. The side of Hanzo’s face pressed against his own back muscles. Hanzo expression morphs to one of surprise, as if he did not expect the cowboy to look in the direction of the mirror.

Hanzo isn’t embarrassed about getting caught, rather he turns his head to face Jesse’s back and plants soft kisses up to Jesse’s shoulder. McCree watches Hanzo’s lips press against his back. The sensation of soft lips colliding with his skin, paired with seeing Hanzo do it—eyes closed, hair falling out of bun, the way he so elegantly moves across his skin—makes every sensation almost surreal.

It’s an experience McCree undoubtedly wants to have again.

When Hanzo settles his chin on Jesse’s shoulder, Jesse’s still staring at the mirror. The thought crashes its way into his mind: “We look really good together.” It’s the time allowed for those words to sink in that make Jesse realize that they look good holding each other _because_ he wants Hanzo to hold him more.

He wants Hanzo to like him.

He likes Hanzo.

“Like” in this instance is an arbitrary word, because _really,_ McCree’s beyond the liking phase. The feeling that settles in his chest with Hanzo is one not of infatuation, but of comfort, and as he mindlessly spins around in Hanzo’s arms to face him, he can’t see otherwise. Hanzo’s now looking up at him with the same kind of contentedness in his eyes, and it only reaffirms Jesse’s feelings.

Jesse leaves a careful peck on Hanzo’s forehead.

Social cues come in all sorts of formats. If anyone else rolled onto the balls of their feet to match McCree’s height, he wouldn’t have thought anything of it apart from a playful tip-toe gesture. However, when Hanzo does it to match his height, Jesse finds himself drawn in by the archer’s pout.

McCree is nearly breathless when he mumbles, “Darlin’ I don’t know your boundaries for this dare, but _good grief_ are ya’ makin’ me think about them.” His mumbles are heard clearly due to their proximity. That pout turns into a sly smirk.

“Just consider your own boundaries, _Jesse_.”

McCree evaluates his own boundaries over the span of about two seconds to realize that there is nothing in his terms and conditions that may apply against kissing Hanzo. Instead, there is a _quota_ on kissing Hanzo that has yet to be filled.

There’s clearly defined anticipation in both parties when their lips meet, softly and slowly. When they part after a few seconds, there’s evident relief in relaxed shoulders, and a silent “thank you” in prayer.

When they kiss again, it visibly affects Hanzo. He’s got a soft smile he can’t seem to hide and there’s a bounce to his walk that was not there during training. The sight makes Jesse giddy, right through to his shower.

Right before he steps under the water though, he makes a small phone call to an old florist friend.

* * *

 

Hanzo isn’t impatient with dinner. The date they agreed to go out on was specified to take place late in the day. What Hanzo didn’t anticipate was going out to eat after sunset—in the summer. _It was late_ , and he’s starving.

Seeing Jesse in dark jeans and a plain button down is kind of worth it though, he must admit. They were in nearly the same attire, but their own styles customized the outfits as they set out for a night on the town.

A simple Mediterranean corner shop suffices both. They were a little overdressed, but they could easily be passed off as professors within the local college town, just off work. Hanzo’s sleek bun and poised posture certainly acted the part. McCree was the wild card, although putting on a pair of reading glasses to examine the menu overhead made the guise passible.

Civilian life in disguise was certainly strange. Jesse shifts his gaze from eyeing the list of sauces to Hanzo, only to find the man staring back at him rather than the menu. Eyes smoothly roll off to the side, in a selfishly attractive manner. Hanzo likes the reading glasses on Jesse’s face significantly more than he would ever disclose.

The teenager behind the counter is rolling her eyes, and politely repeating the question of “Hi, what would you like to order?” for a second time. Hanzo has enough composure to respond appropriately, and Jesse soon follows suit.

When they eat together, Hanzo is careful while McCree gorges himself on the wrap. He was certainly not a man afraid to show his true colors, and Hanzo must respect that Jesse never plays the part.

Hanzo taps the corner of his mouth. Jesse looks at him confused, before pouting and wiping away a small dribble of sauce. Hanzo finds the action endearing, and chuckles appropriately.

Conversation flows smoothly between mouthfuls and accidental sputters of chewed lettuce. A mirth present in Hanzo’s eyes that McCree doesn’t see too often when he almost knocks over his drink. He’s quick enough to catch it before it fully tips over, silently wishing the catch looked somewhat cool to Hanzo.

Hanzo is impressed, but he tries not to show it.

The quiet, almost at closing atmosphere of the shop offers a neon glow of various colors across their skin. Dim lights from above encourage a relaxed mood as both finish their food.

When they order just hot drinks to-go, Jesse is distracted by the way Hanzo’s knee rests against his own under the table. There’s a deeper intimacy here—in a public place, fully clothed, and barely touching—than most of his previous relationships.

His face would flush brightly at this realization, if he wasn’t so old. There’s a calm ocean in the words Hanzo speaks. A humble past adventure in Nagasaki, Japan which Jesse listens wholeheartedly to. Hanzo only pauses in his story when two hot Styrofoam to-go cups of tea and coffee are brought over to their table.  He doesn’t falter when McCree reaches across the table to reach his resting arm, and grabbing his hand to hold.

Yet, the corners of his mouth upturn. A warmth present in his voice that one only hears when someone is trying to talk while smiling.

They only let go of each other’s hand when they get up to leave. Even then, the second they step into the slightly humid summer night together their hands entwine again.  This time, Hanzo initiates the hand-holding, which internally delights Jesse as they head back to their transport.

* * *

 

When they step into Hanzo’s room to settle for sleep that night, Hanzo strides right in and sets down his things before he acknowledges the large vase sitting on his dresser, filled with sea holly flowers amongst small white filler flowers.

Hanzo’s eyes widen as he moves to stand in front of the dresser and examine the bouquet McCree is now setting his things down next to.

“The arrival of these purdy little thangs are why we ate so late in the day, but hopefully they were worth your time.”

Hanzo nods silently; stunned that McCree pulled whatever strings he may have for hard to get flowers, on such short notice. He obtained the most vibrant shade of sea holly flowers available, found in Switzerland. He looks over at Jesse, who is poorly concealing how happy he is that the flowers worked out. Hanzo shifts from the man’s face, to his tattooed arm, and finally the flowers again.

He loved sea hollies because they reminded him of the great dragons he serves.

Pointed like their scales, yet their ethereal blue so hard to replicate naturally. Hanzo turns to Jesse, enamored by the man’s efforts, but trying his hardest to show only a small portion of what he feels.

He hugs the cowboy tightly when he thanks him, and Hanzo makes it all the way until they settle in bed for the night before his composure cracks.

They’re now in Hanzo’s equally small bed, but now in a colder room. They’re shirtless because McCree swore that skin to skin contact transfers heat better. That of course is not the only reason, but it’s the reason they pretend to act on.

Tonight, Jesse is facing Hanzo when they cuddle up together.

So when the soft hair kisses ensue, they begin to intentionally miss. Hanzo peppered Jesse’s hair, then forehead and cheek in kisses before Jesse caves to his own temptation, and tilts his head. Hanzo hums pleasantly into the kiss, content with McCree’s action.

Jesse breaks the kiss to peck Hanzo’s nose, rubbing his back as he takes a breather, before engaging in another long and soft kiss. Fingers run along the dip in Hanzo’s spine, caressing carefully to the point of goosebumps. As payback, Hanzo’s fingers tease tingles on Jesse’s waist.

They hold each other closely, and Hanzo does his best to engulf as much of McCree with his body heat as possible. Jesse finds himself feeling like a fresh, slightly undercooked cinnamon roll. Complete with the mild scent of cinnamon sticks resting on a night stand as an air freshener.

Hanzo falls asleep first. His slumber hinted only by the way various extremities twitched. McCree shifts his head slightly on the pillow to give one last light kiss on Hanzo’s parted lips.

Tomorrow is their final day of acting like a couple together, and Jesse isn’t looking forward to the loss of contact. It would be a miracle if McCree could ever land someone like Hanzo at this point in his life. Elegant, wise, and seemingly devoted to the small things of a relationship. A beauty in person, and Jesse finds his battered gang-torn soul a much more handsome reflection of his own.

Jesse falls asleep, fingers combed through Hanzo’s hair, contemplating their lives together if all this wasn’t a dare.

When he wakes up in the morning, Hanzo is breathtakingly human just like before. Quietly, Jesse slips out of their loose embrace and out the room. Hanzo has made him feel young over the past two days, and Jesse wants to thank him in various acts before the dare ends.

Making breakfast in bed for Hanzo may have also been an excuse to get out of the freezing cold room, even if just temporarily.

When he returns, it’s with two steaming cups of black coffee, a plethora of eggs, bacon, and store-bought croissants.

The sound of quiet hydraulics lifting the metal door to the room cue Hanzo to sit up, and glance warily over in Jesse’s direction. When the tray of food is placed in front of him, he takes a moment to rub his eyes and then stare at the piping hot plates of food. He glances up at Jesse, quietly asking,

“Is this for… me?” He trails off his question; the thought lost to McCree’s heartwarming smile and hearty chuckle of agreement.

As Jesse settles on the opposite end of the bed, placing the food tray between them. Hanzo swiftly gets up, only to wash his hands and retrieve a robe.

A thick silk robe is draped over Jesse’s shoulders before Hanzo returns to his side of the bed and covers his legs with the comforter. He clasps his hands together, and begins to eat. Blissfully unaware of McCree relishing the new garment. The robe feels like one of the more expensive things Jesse has ever touched in his life, the silk smooth and intricate in pattern and smelling so strongly of Hanzo.

Its heavy weight was warm, and McCree thanks him shyly as he slips on the rich cobalt blue sleeves. Jesse never considered himself a cool-toned person, but there is something gratifying about seeing his wrist surrounded by a deep blue shade. Maybe it was in the way Hanzo seemed a little smug in his glances when Jesse hugged the robe closer to himself.

He wishes that maybe Hanzo liked seeing him in his own clothing, because Jesse still can’t get the images of Hanzo training in his favorite t-shirt out of his head.

His hair was surely a mess, beard unkempt more so from sleep. Jesse knew he did not look like an ethereal being in the morning, and he knew well that his table manners were no mastered skill. He was a wild man, dwelling with someone who could pass as royalty.

Yet, Hanzo looks at him like Jesse is also royalty, all the while sipping Jesse’s favorite coffee blend.

He almost says, “I love you,” after Hanzo comments saying this is the best cup of coffee he’s ever had; but, Jesse just bites his lip and fights a smile. He proceeds to stuff his face, trying to hide sneaking glances at Hanzo, but not putting too much effort into not getting caught.

Jesse’s sure he has a stupid smile on his face when Hanzo does catch him, noted in the way his eyebrow arches. Either that or he has a piece of bacon stuck between his teeth that Hanzo has yet to inform him of. Regardless, Jesse’s crushing hard for every little thing this man does.

Hanzo cleans up their breakfast tray with him. Both in the kitchen, hands covered in suds as they wash every dish and cup. Hana passes behind them in the kitchen calling out that this was their last day, and as a merciful ‘truth or dare’ god, she would allow them to end their dare whenever they pleased.

It’s at this point, that McCree’s mouth functions faster than his mind, because the words are out before he can even consider holding off for a better time. When Jesse thinks of love confessions, it’s certainly not at eight in the morning, washing the dishes in an all too abused sink in a now illegal military base.

Yeah, confessions rarely go scripted, even if they start out as carefully recited and tactfully planned with an escape route if necessary. Hell, even the context of gaining interest for someone through a round of Truth or Dare sounds shallow.

But it’s out there.

“I don’t want this to end.”

Those words are vague, but the meaning hidden behind them is impactful, and of course Hanzo is wise enough to pick up on the context. He looks up from scrubbing one spot with a sponge, to the wall in front of him, before slowly turning his head to glance at McCree.

He just examines McCree’s slightly panicked expression. Hanzo stares at him, and it makes the room feel impeccably large, and the warm water scorching hot. Jesse can’t look away now, _no_ , he’s in too deep and far too close to Hanzo’s judgement now.

Except Hanzo’s shoulders slump, like a weight has fallen from them. He closes his eyes and smiles to himself. All Jesse can think of is “Wow he’s nice-lookin’ when happy.” But, Jesse doesn’t consider why Hanzo’s happy. Not once does Jesse register Hanzo taking a step closer to him as he resumes scrubbing the dish in his hand.

Ah, but Jesse is a smart enough man to understand the meaning behind the hushed and humble tone of:  
“Good, because I don’t want this to end either.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> This idea spawned from a suggestion left on a previous Truth or Dare fic by the wonderful [Magisey](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Magisey/pseuds/Magisey), who has left a couple comments on my previous fics and I really appreciate the support. I’m not sure what Magisey anticipated with the idea, but this is where my mind has taken it. As for the rating, I wanted to step back from Explicit content for a moment to give this series some variety with ratings; I hope my pursuit of variety is well received.
> 
> I'm also posting this very late when I have to be a TA in lab at 8am, so I must get up at 6am. I proof read this exactly one (1) time. Goodnight my sweet reader.


End file.
